


Taken By a Gentler Hand

by gaelige



Category: Suits - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, Domestic Violence, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Spanking, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3445061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaelige/pseuds/gaelige
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pearson Hardman is a progressive law firm, with a long history of providing opportunities for submissive employees.  It also maintains the longstanding tradition of disciplining the associates.  Harvey Specter is the highpowered Dom closer, with the brilliant young associate, sub Mike Ross.  As Mike keeps screwing up, he gets punished more.  The more he is punished, the more he screws up.  What is going on with Mike, and will Harvey able to cope with his own issues before he loses his associate to anxiety and weed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I am so grateful to several different authors who have given me encouragement to do this. Thanks to Blue Five and Joni Beloni in particular!
> 
> Warning! This story has D/s, corporal punishment, humiliation, slash, and spanking. If this is offensive to you, go away.
> 
> On a slightly nicer note, this story may trigger some. If it does, please take care of yourself.

Harvey Specter stepped out of the back seat of his chauffeured car with his usual grace, and looked up at the building that housed the Pearson Hardman Law Firm. A familiar warmth and sense of anticipation grew as usual as he started to mentally gear up for his day, although no one looking at the high powered Dom would notice it. He loved his work at this very highly esteemed law firm, as a closer of no little repute. And as Harvey had no problem admitting, no little ego. He glanced back into the car at his driver. "Thanks, Ray. I'll see you in about two hours for court." "Sure, Harvey. See you then." Harvey nodded his thanks, and shut the door. He straightened, and out of habit, rebuttoned the navy blue suit coat that sat beautifully on his well-toned torso. Walking into the building, he was waved through security, and proceeded to the elevators and up to his floor. He walked through the associates area, automatically checking to see if his associate Mike Ross was at his desk yet. He frowned slightly when that particular desk was empty, and began to mentally rehearse the lecture that he would deliver to Mike once his skinny tied, scrawny ass self arrived. It was a lecture he delivered at least twice a week, and Harvey was not pleased. Clearly, he needed to punch up his lectures. Harvey continued his journey toward his own office, when a hand reached out and grabbed his elbow.

"Harvey, where is your genius associate? He's not at his desk." Harvey stopped and stared pointedly at the hand impeding his progress, and more critically, wrinkling his suit. The hand quickly released, and Harvey changed the direction of his frown toward the hand's owner.

"I don't know offhand, Louis. Did you ask Donna?" he said, referring to his knows-all, sees-all kickass Dom assistant. Louis Litt, junior partner and supervisor of the associate pool, twisted his lips in a very unattractive sneer. His dark features, and oddly mixed rat/lizard face were reddening, and it was not pretty. 

"Harvey, he's late again! Again! And it's not acceptable. Just because he's YOUR associate doesn't mean the rules don't apply to him. I will be disciplining him this time." The unpleasant sneer was now joined by a look of anticipation that made Harvey feel a little...icky...if he were forced to put a name to it. Between his own annoyance with Mike's behavior, and Louis's choice to talk about it in front of the other associates, Harvey's mood began to dive.

"Do whatever you want, Louis, crown him Sir Late-a-Lot for all I care. I have real work to do. You know. As a senior partner." Louis glared at him, then spun and walked away, snapping irritably at some lowly associate. "Harold! For God's sake, use a tissue!" Harvey rolled his brown eyes before continuing to his office. "Donna! Where the hell is Mike?"

Pearson Hardman was in many ways one of the most progressive law firms in New York. The fact that the managing partner, Jessica Pearson, was a woman while 80% of the senior partners were male said a lot. That Jessica, a very powerful Dom in her own right, employed so many subs said even more. While public opinion was shifting, many subs still faced discrimination not only in opportunity, but also in more private, humiliating ways. Harvey was proud of Jessica, and proud of the Firm. However, the office also kept to some of the old traditions as well, and the punishment of associates was one of those classical practices. All associates were punished with corner time, writing lines, and physical discipline. All subs had to have a Dom sign a document giving permission for such techniques to be used, and all Doms had to sign a similar letter in there own behalf. Of course, the subs had no say over the matter, and the Doms didn't want to be seen as taking advantage of their autonomy, or worse, have it implied that they couldn't take it. Louis, as the partner in charge of associates, was judge and executioner of punishments, and if anyone felt he enjoyed it a little too much, well, they hurriedly put it out of their minds. Ick...as Harvey so accurately thought earlier. However, Harvey as well as most Pearson Hardman employees, was supremely indifferent to the sniffle of a woman with her nose in the corner, or the crack and yelp of some poor kid getting his bare bottom smacked while bent over his own desk chair. Harvey was just as glad to not have to concern himself with that part of having an associate. Meanwhile, Mike Ross, sub, and associate to the one and only Harvey Specter, was frantically cycling through rush hour Manhattan traffic, weaving and speeding his way around taxis and pedestrians. He was in trouble. Not just trouble, but Very Deep Shit. He didn't know who would be angrier--Harvey, Donna or Louis. Any one of them was bad enough, but the odds on probability that all three would be furious was just fucking scary.

He slid into a spot and locked down his beloved bike, and sped into the building. Up on his floor, he paused as he left the elevator, scoping out the situation before proceeding. He needed to look as if he had been there all along, yep, that was it. Casual. Just hadn't gotten up here to his desk yet because some junior partner had some questions about a brief. Yeah. Shake it off, Mike. Take a breath. Roll your shoulders. Go.

"Good morning, Mike. Gee, Harvey and Louis were just looking for you," came the fake cheery and over loud voice of his next down cube mate, Kyle Durant. "You fucking douche.." Before Mike could say more, the sneering visage of Louis Litt in front of him made him wish he had skipped his breakfast of Coco Puffs. He closed his blue eyes for a quick moment, and then dipped his head, feeling the all too familiar guilt and shame starting in his shoes and twisting its way up. He was such a fuck-up. A real loser. He was a freak, stupid, such a fucking idiot. MIke's heart rate sped up, and he started sweating more than on his bike ride in. Mike knew he needed to calm himself down before his anxiety became unmanageable, but he was so caught up in his fear and guilt he wasn't sure he could do this. He blinked furiously to keep tears at bay.

"Well, well. Mr. Ross. Evidently, when we hired you we neglected to tell you what start time is. What time do we start our day, associates?" An instant chorus came from round the room. "Eight o'clock, Mr. Litt."

"And what time is it, Michael?" Mike briefly checked his watch before casting his eyes back down to the floor. "It's eight thirteen."

"How is that acceptable behavior for an associate of Pearson Hardman?" Before Mike could answer, Louis went on. "I'll tell you. It isn't. Mike, you evidently think you are above the rules here because Harvey Specter hired you. Well, you aren't. You're going to be punished." Mike's breakfast was going to make a second appearance.

"Come with me, Mike." Everyone watched with snickers and whispers. "Finally, he's going to get it." "Yeah, Golden Boy is going to get his ass tanned." Mike briefly came out of his shame enough to snarl internally at Kyle. Louis stopped in a corner of the room, the one that led to the hallway down to the partners' offices. A constant flow of traffic went through as the lawyers went about their days, making it a very public arena. Louis sneered again at Mike as he dug in his pocket for a dime. He held it up in front of Mike's now pale face.

"Thirteen minutes, Mikey. Your nose, this dime, this wall. Hands behind your back. It falls, you start over." He pressed the dime to the wall with one hand, and grabbed one of Mike's arms to pull him closer to the wall. Mike automatically stiffened, his shame now overcome by fear, as he tried not to flinch away.

"But, Louis, please, I have to get a brief to Harvey. He's got court in two hours. Please, Louis, I'll give him the brief and then do double in the corner." Mike could feel his legs shaking and his head pounding, and he was breathing way too fast. 

"No. You should have been here on time. Harvey can wait." Mike knew that Harvey could not wait--Harvey did not wait. His belief was that on time was a least thirty minutes early. And any minute now, Harvey would come down looking for his paperwork and see Mike in disgrace. Mike pushed his nose to the dime, and prayed he would not cry. Louis set an old kitchen timer for 13 minutes, laughed nastily and walked away. Four minutes later, the dime fell for the first time, and a laugh went around the room. Blushing furiously, he picked it up and went back into position, after resetting the timer. Now he was shaking all over. He was an idiot, he never should have agreed to take this job. Harvey would be so angry at him. He was a reflection on Harvey, and the man whose approval meant more to him then anyone else in the whole world beside his Grammy would be disappointed and mad and so ashamed of him. He was an embarrassment. Mike could no longer help the tears that streaked down his red cheeks.

Down the hallway at her desk, a knockout redhead watched, her throat tightening unexpectedly. Donna Paulsen, Harvey's assistant, gave a quick shake of her head, and tried to tell herself that nothing was wrong. It was just business as usual. Harvey's puppy would learn.


	2. Chapter Two

Harvey sat at his desk, feeling vaguely dissatisfied. He slowly spun his chair around to stare outside the glass walls, and then just as slowly spun back to center, and wondered what had happened to his earlier elation. Louis did not usually have the power to put Harvey off his game, and with a small snort, Harvey decided Louis still didn't. However, he couldn't deny that he felt...uneasy? Unsettled?

 

"What's wrong, my liege? Trouble in your kingdom?" Donna's mocking voice floated across the always open intercom. Harvey scowled. How did the woman do that? He opened his mouth to reply when the redhead's phone rang. She smiled too widely at him while she answered. Harvey pulled his thoughts back to his own business, and realized with a start that he didn't have the briefs yet for court. Harvey started out of his chair to go and ream his associate's tardy ass when Donna's voice again came his way. "Harvey, Mr. Noble is on line two; he's upset about a new line of questioning coming up with his deposition." Harvey groaned, but sat back down with a small--yet dignified--thump onto his chair. Donna smiled to herself at this new development. Mr. Noble usually was good for at least 15 minutes of nonstop whining.

In some distant part of his mind, Mike heard the timer go off, but he didn't move yet, waiting to be released. It had taken Mike another couple of tries before he was successful at shutting out the distractions around him, and he didn't want to lose any more valuable time. "Mike, time's up. You don't get brownie points for staying in position longer." Louis laid a hand on Mike's back, laughing when the boy jumped. He turned Mike around to face him, and not coincidentally, the whole eagerly watching associate pool. He took Mike by his shoulders, and assumed a sad, tolerant expression.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, young man. Next time you're late, it won't be corner time." He took his dime back, turned Mike toward his cubicle, and sent him on his way with a sharp smack to the seat of his pants. Mike jerked away from him, the trembling starting back up and again heard the laughter of his fellow associates. "Oh, and Mike? I'll be talking to Harvey about this, of course. And you will be taking home a note to your responsible Dom about your disobedience and punishment, and I'll expect a note in response."

Mike stood frozen, his face paling. His responsible Dom...before Mike could think again clearly, Kyle spoke up again, chanting in a sing song tone known on playgrounds the world round. "Ooh, Mikey's going to get it, Mikey's going to get it."

"Shut up, Kyle! Just sh.." Mike's voice caught and cracked. He stood shaking, his hands balling into fists and his head down. He stumbled back to his desk and fell into the chair for a second before standing back up and making his way to the restroom. There, he went to the furthest stall and locked the door. Sinking down onto the toilet he buried his face in his hands and just sobbed. He sobbed because of the horrible memories that kept rising to the surface, unbidden. He cried because his responsible Dom was AWOL. And most of all, he sobbed because all he wanted was for his boss to be proud of him, to tell him "good boy." Mike angrily rubbed at his eyes, trying to stop crying. Harvey couldn't be proud of him--he was a loser, a fuck up, a very bad boy, and he wasn't worth all the trouble he caused his boss. Mike stood up and pushed the door to the stall open, and made for the sinks. His heart was racing again, and the pain in his head was starting to provoke nausea. He bent forward to the sink, wanting to splash some cool water on his face. Just then, the door to the restroom swung open, and Harold poked his curly blond head in. Seeing Mike at the sinks he walked on in, his pasty face a mixture of curiosity and compassion.

"Mike? Are you okay?" Mike swallowed hard and stood up straight before he turned around. Harold looked down at his feet, before his eyes bounced back up to Mike. "I was worried about you. But I also wanted to remind you that you said you needed to get Harvey some papers." Choking a little at the lengthy sentence, Harold said, "Mike, if you can't do it, I'll take them for you."

If it were any other associate, Mike would have thought that the motive would be to let Harvey see, subtly, that Mike was unreliable and didn't value Harvey's time. But he knew that Harold was frightened by Harvey, and downright terrified of Donna. Mike tried to smile and cleared his throat. "Thanks, Harold. You are a good friend. And thanks for reminding me, but I can handle it." Harold only nodded silently, and left the restroom. Mike followed a few minutes behind him.

Donna looked up at Mike's almost silent hangdog approach, noting the red-rimmed eyes and the water stains on his shirt front. "You just made it, puppy. And you are extremely lucky that he's been on the phone for the past 25 minutes--" She was interrupted in her rant by Harvey himself. The older man was frowning, and sharply slapped his hand down onto Donna's desk, causing Mike to jump and Donna to shoot her boss an irritated glare. "Mike, get the hell in my office." Mike gingerly followed his boss to his desk, and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Harvey holding up a hand.

"I am sick of you just showing up whenever you want, and doing your work whenever you want. What the hell is wrong with you? I told you I needed those briefs for court this morning. When did I tell you to have them to me, Mike? WHEN, Mike?" Harvey's voice continued to rise, and Mike felt tears burning his eyes again. He knew Harvey had every right to be upset and yell at him, but Mike's ability to control himself was becoming tenuous. He didn't want to believe his morning could get worse. 

He threw the papers onto Harvey's desk, not caring as they skittered across the immaculate surface. "All right, Harvey! Yes, I'm late! I'm sorry, okay? You wanted them first thing! I'm sorry! I know I'm a disappointment and a fuckup, but you don't have to keep fucking YELLING at me!" The minute the words left his lips, Mike froze. Harvey stepped around the desk toward Mike, his face darkening with anger. He stopped a few inches away. His voice became low and dangerous.

"Excuse me? What did you just say to me? Who the HELL do you think you are talking to? I am your boss, and you will not ever speak to me in that tone of voice again. I will fire your sorry ass in a heartbeat!" Harvey's voice dropped down even lower as he stepped even closer to his associate. He couldn't remember ever being this angry at Mike before. "If you ever pull this crap again, I swear I will smack you into next week, clear?" 

Mike turned absolutely white, and started backing away from Harvey, little whimpers escaping him. Harvey abruptly stopped, Mike's reaction finally breaking through his rage, while hearing Donna's exasperated whisper in the background. "For God's sake, Harvey!" Harvey watched as Mike continued to back up until he ran into the couch, and sat down hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and started to rock himself back and forth. "Please don't hit me again. Please don't." 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, bookmarking and leaving kudos! It's very encouraging!
> 
> The story gets a little darker here. Some of Mike's past comes up (expected) but some surprises as well. As I said before if the subject area is painful for you, take care of yourself.

Harvey stopped, not yet finished with his lecture, but shocked into silence by his associate's behavior. Had Mike really just accused Harvey Specter of hitting him? Donna opened the door, and walked into the office. She strode right up to Harvey, her eyes flashing in anger. "You've hit him? Harvey, how could you?"

Harvey found himself backing up. A Donna in both protective mode and pissed off mode was nothing to laugh at. "No! Of course not. Since when do I go around hitting subs? Well, subs that aren't mine, anyway." He tried to grin at her, but was distracted by the site of Mike, still rocking and mumbling. It was true, Mike wasn't his. So why did he feel so responsible? And why the hell did he want to go comfort the kid? 

Donna was somewhat appeased. "Yeah, well, someone's hitting him. What are you going to do, Harvey?" She too looked over at Mike, and her heart caught at the site of the distraught sub. She pulled her gaze back to her boss, who was busily stuffing his laptop and files into his briefcase. "Harvey?"

He looked up and grinned at her. "I've got court. I'll talk to him when I get back, okay?" Despite his easy grin, Harvey was upset, and wanted out.

Donna narrowed her eyes at him, and said, "Harvey Specter. You would really leave the pup like this?" It was against any Dom's instinct to abandon a sub who was suffering like Mike. And she knew that Harvey cared about the kid, whether he would admit it or not. She was frankly puzzled by Harvey's behavior.

"What do you want me to do, Donna? I can't cancel court at such short notice--it's Judge Conners, and he will throw out our case if I'm not there. Call Louis to come get him. He's in charge of the associates, isn't he? For heaven's sake, Donna, you're a Dom, you know how to handle an upset sub. Calm him down and I'll talk to him when I get back. I've gotta go." Harvey picked up his briefcase, and headed for the door. He paused in front of Mike, who was now sitting silently, staring at the floor. "Mike?" He didn't wait for Mike to acknowledge him, or even look up. "Mike, we'll talk when I get back, okay?" He left abruptly.

Donna watched Harvey walk rapidly away. With another man, she would have classified the pace as almost a run, but Harvey was always mindful of his dignity and appearance. She sighed and looked over at Mike. He was no longer staring at the floor, but watching Donna. She smiled at him, and walked over to the rookie. "So, puppy, what was that all about? Who has been hitting you?" 

Mike stood up and scoffed. Or tried to. "No one...Donna, I don't know what... I am not getting hit by anyone. I'm tired and kinda hungry, and nothing else. I was just...I'm fine, Donna. Really." Things were starting to fall apart in Mike's carefully constructed Jenga tower, and he had to shore it up quick. He looked at Donna's frankly disbelieving look, and started for the door. "I gotta get back, Louis has already piled on the work."

"Mike." The redhead could tell that short of putting Mike on his knees right now, she wouldn't get anything out of him, and that wasn't really her place. "Mike, I am allowing your lies for now." She put a hand up when she saw him indignantly opening his mouth. "Don't make it worse by lying to me again." She waited until his head dropped back down. "However, as a Dom employed by this firm, I am telling you to go get some lunch before you go back to the cube farm. I will tell Louis that's what you are doing, and that I told you to. No arguments." 

Mike stepped one pace back toward Donna, and she could tell his anxiety was mounting again. "You won't tell Louis...you won't say anything about this? 'Cause this was nothing, right? Just me being hungry...Please, Donna." She sighed, not liking any of this, and pissed as hell at Harvey for bailing on her. And Mike. "Yes, Mike. I will just tell him about lunch. Now, go." She smiled to herself a little. Mike still needed to learn, especially for a lawyer, how important it was to demand specificity with words. She wouldn't tell Louis a thing, but that didn't mean she couldn't ask him whatever she wanted.

The Harvey Specter that slid into the backseat of his towncar was a very different Harvey than the one who had left it this morning. Gone was the thrill, the elation, and the love of what he did for a living. Left was a man with dancing nerves and not at all from his upcoming court appearance. Sighing, he pulled out the briefs from his case, and flipped it open. Mike's familiar scrawl leapt out at him. Harvey had fully intended to take his pup to court today, to let him watch how a true master dominated in court, and he had to admit, to show off for him. Mike was always willing to play the eager young space cadet to his Duck Dodgers. He frowned; that was not a reference from him--that was all Mike. Harvey let himself settle back for a moment to recall that time, about five weeks ago. Even after Harvey had pointed out that left Mike in a Porky Pig role, Mike had been quick to point out that Harvey got the Looney Tunes reference, thereby making him not only old, but an old dork. Harvey had growled at him, and taken a swipe at the back of his head, and that somehow had turned into a fond hair ruffle. Harvey's mood sagged even further, as he now remembered that as he took that playful swipe, Mike had slammed his eyes shut and ducked. He had come up smiling into the ruffle, even leaned into Harvey's shoulder for a brief second. The small moment of affectionate play then ended, and they settled down to work again. 

An all too familiar darkness welled up in Harvey, one that he hadn't felt in years, and for good reason. Harvey knew how easily he could be drawn back into lashing out and how easily he could lose everything he had fought so hard to attain. He closed his brown eyes and shoved that darkness as far back down as he could, silently cursing the youngster who had brought it all back with a goddamned anxiety attack.

Donna casually strode down the corridor toward the associates' area, having already checked to ensure Mike was still at lunch. She struck an effortlessly graceful pose at the door to Louis Litt's office. "Louis? Do you have a moment?" She waited until he glanced up from his work and then flashed a conspiratorial smile at him.

Louis immediately stood up and oozed out from behind his desk, gesturing for her to take a seat. "What can I do for you, Donna? Are you finally seeing how much more we could be for each other?" Louis spent at least 65% of his fantasy life imagining how he could rescue Donna from her life of Harvey-caused misery.

Donna sank into the proffered chair and crossed her ankles. She was well aware that his gaze would start with her new Jimmy Choo peeptoe heels, glide up her lusciously toned calves and then lightly over her knees and up a chaste few inches of thigh to the soft forest green silk of her dress. 

"Louis, I need you to tell me everything about Mike Ross."


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning--flashbacks of abuse, violence, substance abuse, self harm. The angst meter will be on high for a bit

Mike made his way down to the curb outside of Pearson Hardman. He looked around at his options for lunch, and tried to regain some semblance of sanity. What the hell had just happened? He did not just have a flashback, and did not just look like a fool, and had not just drawn the attention of both Harvey and Donna. Sighing, Mike had to face facts. Yes, all that had happened. He had indeed drawn their attention, because he was a small, stupid little shit. Not because he was brilliant, not because he had done an outstanding job on those briefs that Harvey needed, not because he was better than any four of the other associates put together. He attracted attention because he behaved like a little kid. A small kid who couldn't handle a little discipline; and now he had drawn attention to himself. Mike swallowed back bile, and started trembling. He knew better than to draw attention to himself.

"Yes, doctor. I understand completely, nothing but rest for awhile for Mike. Five stitches, and a broken wrist and no tears? Yeah, he is a brave kid! Yes, I have no idea what happened, but I'm certain he'll be more careful from now on." A rough shake brings Mike up short outside the ER doors. "Yeah, I have no idea what the hell you were thinking, but you just wait till we get home. I'll really give you something to cry about." A cab ride home, way too short, and Mike is pulled out of the cab, and up the four flights of stairs to their home. "Get in there, and pull your pants down." Mike's TV like memory shuts off the sound for while, blocks out the voice screaming and yelling at him, and instead it is all in living color muscle memory. A backhanded slap across his face. A hard hand across his bare little bottom and legs, over and over again. A rough shove into the bathroom lands him half on, half off the bathtub and ribs crack. The sound is now switched back on in his brain. "Please, Daddy. Please, I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" Daddy doesn't stop, though, and now pulls off his belt and doubles it over. He grabs Mike by his brand new cast, and hauls him up and over his thigh, Daddy's foot on the toilet seat. A sickening crack rings out, of leather against soft skin, and Mike screams in agony. "No more, Daddy! PLEASE! I won't ever tell anyone, ever! Please stop, Daddy!"

Louis Litt was delighted. Not only had the elegant, seemingly unattainable and seriously hot Donna come into his office, but she needed his help! And to think, Louis had almost left the office for a little late lunch. "Tell me all you know about Mike Ross" she had said. No, wait. Wasn't it "Help me, Louis Litt. You're my only hope." No, that was a line from one of those stupid Asteroid Battle movies. Ah, yes. Now he remembered. Donna had said, "Louis, you are the only one who can give me the information I need. Harvey certainly couldn't help me. No, this was a task that only you are up to, Louis, because you know your associates." Louis had been silently running through his renditions of Donna's plea, and he was jolted back to the present by Donna's not so subtle throat clearing.

"Louis? You still with me? And you think I'm seriously hot, huh?" Louis looked up, startled. He thought he'd been silent the whole time. Huh. He'd have to be more careful. Donna cleared her throat again. "Uh, Louis? Mike Ross? Harvey's wunderkind?"

That got the desired effect. "He's mine, too, you know. I know Harvey feeds him that crap, but I supervise the associates, not Harvey goddammed Specter. Mike should know that by now--he should after this morning. In fact, Harvey even said I could discipline him, said he didn't care what I did to him. No more of that 'he's my associate, I'll handle him' shit that Harvey was telling me last month." Louis rocked back in his chair with a self satisfied smirk. Donna briefly entertained the idea of slapping that smirk to the back of his head, but told herself firmly that business came before pleasure. And Harvey had better not have given Louis free hand over Mike, or there would be hell to pay. 

Louis steepled his fingers underneath his chin. "Yeah, I rocked the kid's world this morning, just with a simple timeout. I can't wait to see what response we get from his responsible Dom tomorrow." Donna waved her hand in the classic tell-me-more signal, and Louis eagerly obliged. "You know, the note sent home about his infraction and my discipline. It has to be signed and sent back to me. I wonder if the kid was upset because he'll get punished at home as well. In my day, both in school and here, if I got in trouble here, I got a spanking at home. Maybe since Harvey has just let him run wild, he hasn't had to take a note home yet. Ooh, this ought to be good!" Louis made a noise that was part catcall, part snark, and totally creepy. As Donna rose from her chair, he said, "Hey, he has to get his note signed by Harvey too. You want to hand deliver it?" Donna considered that offer for a moment, and then nodded.

"You know, Louis, we live in an advanced technological world. You can just sent Harvey an email or a text message." Donna looked at Louis with no small measure of amusement. Louis nodded knowingly, holding up a self righteous finger, as he printed off a document and handed it to her.

"Yeah, I know that, Donna. But that just doesn't have the same effect. Didn't you ever have to bring home a letter from school for your parents? And you knew that it was bad, and you couldn't do a damn thing about it, and had to actually hand it to your parents, knowing you were going to be in major trouble? It's all about the psychology, Donna. It's just not the same--having your parent get an email. You carry your own doom." He laughed in an annoyingly knowing way, and winked at her. Donna took the paper, and gazed at it for a second.

"I'll make sure Harvey gets this when he's back from court. Thanks, Louis. I think." Donna left his office, reading as she walked back toward her own desk. 

"Dear Harvey,  
I am sorry to have to tell you that your associate was late to work today. After a short discussion with you, during which you specifically said I could do as I pleased in terms of Mr. Ross's discipline, I decided that Michael's pattern of tardiness needed to be addressed. Therefore, I put Michael in the corner for a timeout for 13 minutes, one for each minute he was late. Michael did not take his punishment well, and argued with me, and attempted to stall and avoid his punishment. I remained firm, and he eventually did complete the time out. I did inform Mr. Ross that future tardiness would result in more severe punishment. Please discuss this with your associate, and inform me of any concerns you may have regarding Mr. Ross's behavior problems. I, apologize for this intrusion into your busy day, but trust you will take this opportunity to teach Mike a lesson. I would appreciate your written and signed response to this matter. 

Thanking you in advance for your cooperation, 

Louis Litt,

Supervisor of the Pearson Hardman Associates

Donna rolled her eyes at his pomposity. Louis, you are a strange little man...  
.  
Harvey called her about an hour later. "Donna, I totally dominated in court. Won, of course. You should have seen me, I was magnificent. So magnificent that our client is taking me out for drinks. So I won't be back until tomorrow, okay?" Donna felt a rush of anger.

"No, Harvey. It's not okay. What about Mike? You told him you would talk to him when you got back."

"I know that, Donna. I promise I'll talk to him tomorrow morning. That'll be better anyway. Give us all a chance to settle down and talk rationally about it. Uh, how is he?" Donna could hear the concern in Harvey's voice, along with another element she couldn't put her finger on."

"I tried to talk to him, but he started to get more upset, and lied to me. Said he was fine. I told him to get some lunch, and since then he's been working at his desk. Something is wrong, Harvey. I'm worried about him." Donna didn't try to keep the concern out of her voice; Mike was too important to her to try and tiptoe around the mammoth in the office.

"Okay, Donna. Hey, why don't you tell him to knock off early today. He did an excellent job on the briefs for this case, and he deserves a reward. And the kid looked pretty tired. You may as well leave early too, Donna. Take yourself shopping. Get that handbag you and Rachel were squealing over." Donna knew exactly what Harvey was doing, but hey. She wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to shop on Harvey's dime. Or more accurately, Harvey's platinum card. Plus, it would give her a good excuse to check up on their puppy.

"Okay, Harvey. But you'd better be here in the morning, ready to talk to Mike. And thanks, Harvey." She hung up, and started to shut down her computer for the night. While she did so, she mused over the puzzle that was her boss. Emotion and connection scared him. He was often an egotistical bastard, but equally often, a deeply compassionate man.

Donna assumed an air of casual pleasantry as she approached Mike at his desk. She, as always, immediately drew all the associates' attention. Mike still was quite pale, and she could see a light tremor in his hands as he worked. "Mike, your master called. He said you did an outstanding job on the briefs, and that you were instrumental in the win. So, as a reward, he told me to tell you, you have the rest of the day off!" Mike looked up at her, clearly searching her face for signs of truth. She must have been radiating honesty, because his pale, pinched face suddenly lit up with pleasure.

"Really? He said that?" The thinly guarded hope of pleasing Harvey shot right into Donna's heart, at the same time, she noted the other associates, and Louis, listening raptly. Kyle, she saw, was listening with a scowl on his little weasel face. This time, she made sure to pitch her voice so she would be easily heard throughout the room.

"He sure did, Mike. He said he was really proud of you. So off you go now, enjoy the rest of the day like the good boy you are." This time, the look on Mike's face was that of absolute joy. He obediently cleared his desk, and said good bye to Donna. 

Mike's head cleared and he took his first deep breath of the day . He had made Harvey proud! Harvey liked his work! He'd finally been a good boy for Harvey. He was almost to the elevator when Louis's nasally voice nailed him.

"Mike, remember to take the note to your responsible Dom, and bring it back tomorrow." The day slammed down on him once more.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could this day get worse for Mike? Why yes, yes it could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long its taking me to update. Life kinda sorta sucks swamp water through a perforated bendy straw.

As the elevator doors closed, Mike sank back against the wall. For one brief shining moment, he had what he wanted. Harvey was pleased with him, happy with the work done, and proud of his associate. That had him actually tasting victory, to him like a splash of ripe mangoes. He'd had less than a minute with that, when it turned sour and rotting in his mouth. The letter to his responsible Dom. It was in his messenger bag, with all the rest of the papers he had just swept into it, as he joyfully got ready to leave for the day. The day that was supposed to be his to enjoy with at least four hours of time that normally would have been spent still working. It was like having school dismissed early because of a power outage, or even like a snow day. But now? Now all he had was misery, awaiting certain displeasure and shame. 

Mike unlocked his bike, and started toward home. He tried to focus only on his ride through the usual midday mix of Manhattan traffic, with more pedestrians at this time of day. Normally he weaved seamlessly through, almost effortlessly after many years of practice, but now his anxiety was causing little starts and almost stops. Suddenly, he heard a deep male voice. "Hey, watch out, asshole!" Mike looked up and saw a tall burly man a few feet in front of him, stepping out midblock into the street. There was not enough time for him to avoid a collision; it was either hit the man or hit the curb. Mike sailed across only a few feet of pavement, his progress stopped by a parking meter making full contact with the right side of his body. He knew, from bitter experience, that the popping sound followed almost immediately by a screech of pain meant one thing, and one thing alone. He'd dislocated his shoulder. Mike crawled the couple of feet to the curb, and sat down, and then curled in to himself in reaction to the pain. Meanwhile, the jaywalker continued across the street, unconcerned with the accident. 

"Hey, kid, are you okay? Do you want me to call 911 for you?" Mike looked up to see a blond haired man in his mid 40's standing close by. He crouched down in front of Mike, and Mike could easily identify him as a Dom. "You took quite a hit there, son. How are you feeling?" Mike truly did not know how to respond to the man--how could he explain how truly awful his day had been, and it didn't look to be improving any time soon. His shoulder was screaming, and now that the adrenaline rush was receding, he began to feel the scrapes and cuts that he had gotten from hitting the pavement. Reaction started to set in, and Mike started trembling and tears started forming. The man put a hand on Mike's knee, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey now. It's going to be okay. My name is Jeff. What's your name?"

"M-Mike. Michael Ross." Mike couldn't seem to stop trembling, even though he didn't think he was seriously hurt. All the stress of the day started to whirl around in his head, and his breathing quickened. Jeff got out his phone and dialed 911, still patting Mike's knee. "Yeah, I need an ambulance. A young sub hit a curb while biking, and got thrown off and into a sign post." He quickly rattled off the address, and then started to answer questions. "I think his right shoulder is dislocated and he's got numerous cuts and scrapes. But he's also a bit droppy. Yeah, he's very upset and he is shaking pretty hard. Head injury? He might have banged his head, but I don't see any obvious injury." Jeff ran his hands over Mike's head and through his hair. 

"Okay. We'll see a paramedic soon, then? All right. Of course I'll stay with him. Yes, goodbye." Jeff hung up and turned his attention back to Mike. "Mike, I need to call your Dom. Can you give me a number?" Mike startled at the question, and began frantically shaking his head. 

"No! No, you can't." Jeff looked on as Mike continued to shake his head so hard that Jeff feared that if the boy wasn't concussed before, he soon would be. Mike's breathing hitched several times, and he now looked downright panicky. 

"Mike, you need to calm down, buddy. You're going to hyperventilate, and that won't help anybody." Jeff looked in concern at the boy. Most subs, after anything distressing, wanted their own Doms to look after them. Mike tried to stand up, but almost immediately sank back down to the ground, wincing. Jeff sighed a little, feeling both alarmed and impatient with Mike's definitively atypical behavior.

"Look, Mike, I'm getting worried about you, pal. Is it okay for me to put my arms around you? Not tight. I want to help you calm down a bit." Mike looked closely at him. He was really being very nice to him, and after the day he'd had, a little soothing didn't sound half bad. WHen he nodded slightly, Jeff placed one arm around Mike's back, and used his other hand to cup Mike's neck; a solid grasp but not stifling. Mike, like almost any sub, responded to the comforting touch of a Dom. Mike sighed almost silently. The fact that he knew that this hold was taught to almost every Dom as soon as they identified as such, didn't take away from the fact it felt just as it was meant--deeply reassuring. The age old biochemical reactions kicked right in. A Dom needing to soothe, and a sub needing to be soothed. Jeff did not miss the barely-there settling of the boy, and felt his own Dom sense relax as well. However, it did not last; for either of them.

As soon as Mike calmed down enough to realize that a strange Dom was holding him and reassuring him, it occurred to him that the arms that were comforting him could just as easily restrain him. And with that realization came the need to back away. Jeff felt the minute changes in Mike's body, and just as easily felt his own assessment begin. The younger man was lean bordering on skinny. His initial response to Jeff's hold suggested that he had not been properly taken down in awhile and was craving the physical attention and affection. The reasons for such neglect were varied, running from a good Dom's absence from simple geographical distance to an outright abusive Dom. And while there was the relatively benign possibility of distance, a good Dom would have ensured that another Dom would be looking after their sub's needs. All in all, it did not sit well with Jeff, so while he still had some control over the situation he decided to use the time wisely.

"Mike, come on now. Be a good boy and give me a name or a number of your Dom, okay? I'm sure your Dom will want to know you've been hurt." Mike found himself wanting to trust this man. It was so hard to force himself away. 

"Look, Jeff. I really do appreciate your stopping to see if I'm okay. I just live up in this next block, and you're right, my Dom will want to know I'm okay. He'll already be worried because I'm late coming home. I'm fine." Mike started to struggle a bit in Jeff's arms, and Jeff tightened in response. He listened in vain for the ambulance, hoping to have some assistance soon. He tried to buy some time. 

"Mike. Calm down. Mike! Michael! Stop this right now, before you get hurt any worse." He hoped that by increasing his volume and firming up his tone that Mike's inherent tendency to obey alphas would kick in. Unfortunately, it didn't. Instead, Mike seemed to take his words in an entirely different way then what Jeff meant.

"No! Please don't hurt me! Please! I'm sorry! I'll be good!" Mike was clearly terrified. His words became slurred when he began to sob. Jeff tried to regain lost ground. He lessened the tension on the arm that was around Mike's back, and used the hand around Mike's neck to gently rub, and started to talk quietly. "Okay, buddy. It's all going to be all right. Just relax for me, okay? I'm not gonna hurt you, Mike. Please just breathe, Mike. Just calm down, buddy. You're okay, I gotcha." Just when Jeff thought Mike was finally listening to him, the ambulance pulled up beside them. As the paramedics came toward them, Jeff said, "Okay, here we go. These guys can help you out. I'm sure they can get a hold of your Dom." 

Mike reacted as if he'd been shocked, and surged to his feet. Jeff was surprised enough that Mike was able to break out of his hold, and took off down the block. Jeff tried to call him back, but to no avail. Jeff watched as Mike disappeared into the swell of the crowd, and then looked down by his feet. Mike's messenger bag. Picking it up, he sifted through it and among the files and books and highlighters, found a business card on which was printed Michael J. Ross, associate, Pearson Hardman Law Firm. He picked up the card, bypassing the white business envelope with the same address on the upper left, and in the center, 

Dominant of Record  
Michael J. Ross


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued interest in this story. I know, from my own experience as a reader, it can be hard to stay invested when the story isn't updated regularly; but as an author, I do my best. So if you are still reading, thank you!
> 
> Some background comes clearer in this chapter, and keep an eye out for everyone's favorite BAMF. TRIGGERS--flashbacks leading to self harm, lightly graphic violence.
> 
> IF YOU READ THIS BEFORE 5:30 PM eastern daylight savings time on JUNE 1, 2015, please note: I did some more editing especially toward the end so hopefully it reads smoother and is a little more clear. It's what I get for posting in the wee sma' hours of the night.

"Honey, I'm home!" Donna sang as she kicked off her stilettos. She then set her purse on top of the ottoman just inside her front door, and dropped the several shopping bags down on the couch in the living room. "Sweetie, are you home? Come see what Uncle Harvey bought for you today." Still nothing.

Donna blinked a few times, and then checked her internal clock. Just after 7 p.m. Her sub should be back from work by now. She felt a little uneasy, and went to grab her phone from her purse. Checking for text messages, she found three from her sub. Hmm. Well she did kind of get into a zone while shopping, especially with someone else's money. She rapidly checked the messages, and immediately started dialing. However, before she could hit send, the door opened, and her sub walked through the door. Rachel Lane, Donna's sub for the past two years, was a beauty in her own right, dark long hair, pretty much perfect body, and her best feature, her large dark brown eyes. Rachel was a paralegal at the firm, widely regarded to be the best at Pearson Hardman, a judgment highly endorsed by Donna.

Rachel immediately put her things away, and went to kneel at Donna's feet. She bowed her head, and murmured, "I'm so sorry I wasn't home when I was supposed to be, Mistress. I know you don't tolerate excuses, so should I just go to a corner now?" Her tone was just this side of disrespectful, and unusual enough that Donna had to stop her go-to response and consider, as she let one hand rest lightly on Rachel's head. Her excitement over her shopping had slipped away as soon as she saw her texts, and now she needed to know what was going on for her young sub, and how best to respond to her needs. 

"Rachel, I know you're upset. And I'm very sorry didn't see and respond to your text. I want to know what happened, but I need you to speak to me respectfully. Can you do that now, or do you need to go to the corner to calm down a bit first?" Donna spoke softly, but with enough of an edge to it that Rachel straightened her spine a little and bowed her head a little lower. Donna kept the hand resting on Rachel's head, and used her other to gently stroke a line down Rachel's lovely cheek and jaw and then back up. When her sub was upset, Donna knew that she took even the mildest of correction as punishment, and would correspondingly get upset with herself for behaving poorly.

Rachel took a deep breath, and then another. Donna waited patiently, continuing the soothing caress of Rachel's face. "I can do that, Mistress." 

"Which, girl?" Donna let a small smile into her voice, as she inwardly celebrated that she would not have to dole out a punishment. 

"Speak respectfully, Mistress." Rachel finally relaxed under her Domme's skilled hand and guidance. Donna helped her sub to her feet, and led them to a comfy chair, where Donna gratefully sat, her feet a little sore from shopping so long in her heels. She invited Rachel to settle in her lap, which the sub quickly did, seeking comfort; she let out a long and gusty sigh. Donna curled Rachel inward, so that Donna could change her caress for a more solid up and down rub of her back. 

"Now, baby, tell me. What happened?" Donna invited. She kept her eyes trained on Rachel, and kept her body language open and supportive. 

Rachel took another deep breath, and began. "It's about Mike, Donna. You know he got punished today by Louis, right. And then Harvey sent him home early as a reward for his work on Harvey's court case today. Well, some of the other associates got pissed off." Donna raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and Rachel saw the silent reprimand. "Sorry, Mistress. I mean, they got angry about Mike's reward, and how Harvey only gives his work to Mike. Well, Kyle started getting the others more riled up with lies about Mike, and then went over to Mike's desk and started going through his stuff. Harold tried to get him to stop, and Kyle wouldn't, so Harold went to Louis. And he put Harold in the corner for tattling on Kyle." Rachel's voice had steadily risen as she related the incident. Donna shushed her, and encouraged her to breathe deeply again. "Mistress, Louis told the associates that Harvey told him that he is free to punish Mike however he wants now, and Kyle is going to do whatever he can to get Mike in more trouble than he does already." 

Damn Louis anyway. Why would he make that remark to the associates anyway? Basically, between Harvey and Louis, they had just declared open season on Mike. Donna was busily mentally stringing the two of them up by their balls and almost missed that last part. "Honey, what do you mean 'already'?" 

"Mike gets in trouble all the time, Mistress. It's just that Louis has always been too afraid of Harvey to do anything but yell at Mike and threaten him." Donna blinked. How had she missed this? Was she losing her touch at knowing all? She had to admit, that until today, she really hadn't paid much attention to Mike after the novelty wore off when Harvey hired him. Even then, her attention was more focused on teasing Harvey for his motives for bringing Mike into the firm in the first place, rather than on Mike himself. She gave herself a mental shake. 

"Okay, hon. Thank you. You did a great job of telling me what was wrong. I want you to tell me more about how Mike gets in trouble while we eat. It's too late for you to cook, so let's order out. Thai, I think. And you can tell me exactly why you are so upset about all this." Donna pulled Rachel's face toward her and gave her a light kiss against her lips, before rather absentmindedly dumping Rachel off her lap, as she began planning for her day tomorrow. Harvey was in deep shit. Very deep shit indeed. 

Mike ran. He ran away from Jeff, from the paramedics, from questions. He ran away from a strange Dom who had taken the time to help Mike, who held him, and soothed him: and had called for help. He ran despite the burning pain in his shoulder that made his stomach roll. Weaving in and out of groups of people, Mike finally reached the dilapidated apartment building in Brooklyn that housed him. After climbing the three flights of stairs to his tiny apartment, Mike dug his keys out of his pocket, quickly opening his door and then just as quickly slammed it shut again and locked it. Dropping his keys on the side table, he began to grab his phone from his messenger bag, and then froze. HIs bag, where was it ? Oh no. No. His eidetic memory provided him with a picture of his bag by Jeff's feet. No. Mike's heart rate sped up. His wallet, his phone, the briefs he was reviewing for Harvey, his last can of RedBull, and...Mike shut his eyes, and smacked himself on the forehead. The letter! The letter from Louis to his Dom! Mike smacked his forehead again, this time twice as hard. What the hell should he do now? Mike started shaking harder as he realized just how fucked he was. 

He wished, or at least a small part of him wished he had stayed with Jeff. It was such a long time since anyone had taken care of him. Mike was a survivor; he had taken care of himself for a long time, but like it or not, he was a sub. He longed for someone who could make him feel safe, someone who would protect him from the myriad slings and arrows that came with the label of sub. Now those thoughts and yearnings smashed down upon him with a vengeance, and tears started down his face. Mike took a swipe at his cheeks to try and stop the salty liquid from burning through one of the several scrapes and cuts on his face. He let out a small sob, and went to his bedroom, going directly to his bed. Kneeling by the bed, he felt around underneath and pulled out a length of fabric, and closing his eyes, he brought it up to his face. Snuffing in the fabric, he smelled a familiar Dom's scent--a little cedar, a little light citrus, some sweat, and a just a whiff of expensive cologne.

Mike quickly got up and into his bed, pulling the cheap and threadbare bedding around him. Automatically, he curled himself up into a tight ball. His shoulder throbbed, his head pounded, and he ached all over, but all that began to fade into a low background hum. He reached out and found his very old teddy bear, Franklin, and as usual, wrapped the piece of fabric around the bear, and cuddled it into his body. Resting his chin on top of Franklin's head, Mike continued to sniffle, and started to rock himself trying desperately to calm himself down, but without a Dom to guide him in the routine, his anxiety continued to rise. Mike was drowning in waves of sadness, fear, pain. Letting go of his blankets and Franklin for the moment, Mike began rocking harder, gaining enough momentum to smash his head rhythmically into his headboard of his small twin size bed. After making his head pound fiercely and breaking some skin on his forehead, Mike stopped and frozenly considered his position.

Louis would very likely punish him tomorrow for not having his letter signed, but he still would expect that Mike had told his Dom about the trouble he was in with his tardiness. Mike closed his eyes against the sudden and unwelcome memories of getting in trouble in the past.

"Bad, bad boy." Smack. 

" Why can't you learn to behave?" Smack.

" I don't like to punish you, Mike." SMACK. 

" But I've warned you." SMACK.

"Get in trouble at school, at work, get twice as hard a punishment at home." SMACK! 

"Now take down your pants, Mike." SMACK! 

"Pull. Your. Pants. Down. And bend over the chair. NOW Michael!" SMACK!! 

The awful memories kept pushing him, until something inside his probably concussed head snapped and Mike began to re-enact his old punishments. All of sudden, he found himself pulling his own belt out of his pants and doubling it in his hands. His heart was pounding in fear. Mike moved woodenly to an old and small chair in a corner of his apartment. He felt like a marionette, moving as someone else held those strings.

"No, please. I'll be good, I promise. Don't hurt me, please!" Mike's small soft voice went unheard. The voices in his head mingled and wove, coming closer to him, with a darkness that enveloped him. Doing as he was told, Mike pulled his dress pants down, and after another sharp command, pulled down his briefs as well. Bending over the chair, Mike awkwardly snapped the thin piece of leather down on his own bottom, already bruised and stinging from his bike accident. He yelped in pain, but continued to whip his own ass, over and over, as memories assailed his actions. 

"Michael, you will learn to behave, and you will learn to respect me, or I promise I'll come to school with you, and all your little friends can watch as I take down your pants, and whip you raw. Don't think I won't. You hear me, boy?" Mike sobbed, and kept swinging the belt against his already red, black and blue bottom.

"Yes, Daddy! Please stop, Daddy!" Suddenly, the voice in Mike's head changed over to a deeper, rougher voice. The voice of the first Dom he had after his father. The Dom his father had trained, using Mike as his classroom and textbook.

"Are you begging, boy? How dare you, after all the trouble you cause? You are the reason I drink and smoke weed, you ungrateful little bitch. You're the one who causes all the tension and stress around here. And you have the balls to beg me to stop? Spread your legs, Mike. Farther! Those balls need a lesson." Totally caught up in the flashback, Mike did as he was told, and changed the angle of the belt, so it now came down vertically, striking his asshole and his balls. Mike screamed in pain, both at the assault on his genitals, and in the pain in his shoulder as he twisted his torso around to hit himself. Five more times Mike hit himself with belt, when that voice said, "Have you learned your lesson? You respect your betters, boy. You behave when you are in public, you don't screw around and shame your Dom! If this happens again, if you embarrass me and your father again, I will come to your work, and this spanking will seem like a dream come true, you little piece of shit! Now get out of my sight!"

Mike picked himself up, pulled off his suit pants and pulled up his briefs, trying to stifle a sob at the pain. He slowly walked back to his bed, and carefully let himself down to lie on his stomach. His bottom hurt too badly to curl up in his customary ball, but he tried, before reaching again for Franklin and the scrap of fabric still twisted around the bear. Mike nuzzled into it, and began to cry silently, so as not to stir up his phantom Doms again. 

Slowly, the daylight dimmed into twilight, and Mike fell asleep, hugging Franklin and the scrap of cloth, an old t-shirt of Harvey's that Mike had impulsively stolen from the older man's unattended gym bag one night as they worked late at Harvey's condo. As he clutched it tightly in his hands, and inhaled the warm and familiar scent, his dreams finally became comforting and safe. "It's okay, Mike. You did good. You're a very good boy for me. I will never let anybody hurt you again. Harvey's gotcha, kid. You're safe now, buddy. I gotcha." In his sleep, the bloodstains and tearstained lines on his face gave way to the soft, pliable boy that Mike so desperately wanted to be, to be Harvey's good boy.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to all who read, gave kudos, reviewed, and bookmarked or subscribed. Every time I get an email telling me I got kudos or a comment, I get a little shivery. Thank you.
> 
> A little more backstory, now, of Harvey, Donna and Mike. I'm not nice to them, just so you know. At least I am not nice to Harvey and Mike. Donna has a good ol' time with her sub. 
> 
> Warning for a little sex act described.

Harvey returned home earlier than expected and alone for a change. He had gone for drinks with his grateful and appreciative client, but left early claiming he didn't feel well. It was truth, too, his head was pounding. :He knew from experience that meant he was getting a migraine, or he had pissed off Donna, or he was allowing the past to bleed through to the present. Harvey smiled a little wryly; he might have just won the trifecta. HIs pounding head was also now accompanied by the rolling stomach he knew meant migraine. And all day long he had kept seeing the look on Donna's face when she realized he was leaving for court and also leaving Mike in distress. The look was one of confusion and anger, but worse, disappointed. He HATED disappointing Donna. She was his bedrock and best friend, and at times, his moral compass. Harvey did snort a little there, because, really Donna's moral compass was just a skosh better than his, but still. And yes, bad memories that had long been buried were coming to light again, no thanks to Mike Ross. Harvey kept seeing Mike's terrified face while he pleaded with Harvey not to hit him again.

Harvey 's head was throbbing now, and he went to his medicine cabinet, hoping against hope he had refilled his prescription for migraines. If he took it soon enough, he might be able to stave off a full blown attack; he had not had one in about 5 months. Opening the cabinet, he saw an orange prescription bottle with a large light red post it attached. The bottle was full, and the note read in Donna's precise and somehow fierce writing, "You're welcome. You have one refill left. D." Harvey chuffed in amusement, and took two pills with a glass of water. Somehow, he doubted he would be allowed to call in sick tomorrow, even if he was throwing up all over. Donna would show up at his condo and drag him in by whatever appendages she could reach. Well, maybe not. Her kid brother, James, who was now a neurologist in Chicago, had suffered from migraines as a child and teen, and Donna remembered those times all too well. She had been the one who found Harvey, back in the bad old days with Cameron Dennis, in the men's room almost sobbing from the vomiting and pain. She had cleaned him up, helped him to his feet, and taken him to the ER, where he was told he was the proud owner of a migraine, his very first. Donna had hounded him relentlessly about auras and different meds and warnings about when he should seek help. And here she was again, taking care of Harvey.

Harvey sighed. Back full circle to Donna. And Mike. He poured got himself another glass of water, and wandered to his floor to ceiling windows, looking over Manhattan's skyline. He wished he could get a scotch, but didn't want to mix migraines and medication and alcohol. Donna would kill him. And she would know, too. Even if she was currently in her own apartment five miles away, curled up with Rachel. She was Donna; she would know. Although, she didn't seem to know about Mike. Harvey wasn't blaming her for that; but he was surprised. How had two people, both professional and highly competent people readers, missed the fact that something bad was going on with their puppy?

Harvey's reverie was interrupted by the soft chime from his phone, indicating a text message. He saw it was from Donna, and read, "I don't care if you are still drinking with your client or banging some cocktail waitress, you need to see this." Donna had attached a document, and he saw it was a letter from Louis about his disciplining Mike. He started to read it after another gulp of water, and instantly regretted that as he simultaneously laughed and snorted water out his nose. Sheesh, Donna. Warn a guy. He went to the kitchen and retrieved a small cloth, and wiped his face and phone off, and then the little droplets of water that had hit the window. He became less amused the farther he read. What the hell was wrong with Louis? That was a constant topic of conversation between Harvey and Jessica, Harvey and Donna, and weirdly, Louis and Donna. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then the back of his neck. The forceful snort had nothing for the slamming pain in his head. 

Another chime. Another text from Donna. "I don't care what you are doing right now (see ref drinking/banging.) Can you tell me what you did wrong here? Reread it if you don't know. I'll wait." Harvey frowned. Donna was massively pissed. When she was mildly annoyed, she would just tell him how he screwed up. Only when she was livid did she take this long tortuous path to his sin. Harvey did start Louis's letter again. He finished it still not at all sure what he had done. It was pretty obvious that Louis was targeting Mike because he belonged to Harvey. Well, at least during the day he belonged to Harvey. He was one cute kid, Harvey had to admit. And smart like a bright shiny new penny. 

Harvey chuckled, remembering that's what Donna had said in her typical sarcastic way, that first day of Mike's employment. Mike had spent the morning in HR, filling out forms and such, then had come back up to Harvey's office. He was looking tired and hungry. Donna had circled Mike in a predatory fashion, tapping against her lips one long perfectly manicured nail that was painted in Lizzie Borden Took An Axe Blood Red. Mike had revolved with her, obviously not willing to turn his back to her. A wise move, Harvey had thought to himself at the time. Mike had thrown Harvey looks alternating between scared and enchanted. 

"Harvey, this is enticing. He's so cute! And you say he's smart, too? Bonus! A bright new shiny penny!" She had almost squealed in her semi-fake delight. She continued to circle. "Say something smart, Mike." Mike was starting to tire of her attitude, and turned away from her, but not before she saw his confusion, fear, fatigue and hurt. Harvey caught it as well, and thought to himself that he'd have to train Mike how not to be so revealing with his expressions. Mildly, he had just said, "Donna," indicating the kid with a gesture of his head.

Donna relented. "Well, I'm glad you are here, Mike. Harvey needs someone else to do his grunt work; some one beside me. It's been awhile since Harvey's had anybody, so let me know if he doesn't feed or water you, or give you walkies. Nice choice on our new puppy, Harvey!" Mike had looked up at her, not knowing if she was still teasing or not.

Back with his own thoughts, Harvey fell troubled again. Was Donna really that dismissive initially? When did he stop noticing and/or caring how the pup felt about anything? Another chime.

"C'mon Harvey. Didn't you figure it out yet? I know you are reading these." This time, Harvey texted her back immediately.

"Donna, just say it. I'm not in the mood."

*Chime* "Aww. Wait-don't care. Read!"

"Got a migraine. Thanks for the meds, by the way."

*Chime* "Welcome. Why the hell did you tell Louis he had a free hand now to discipline Mike?"

Harvey stood stock still. Had he? Well, yes. Today. He hadn't meant it for all time.

"Donna. I didn't mean forever. Just today, for Mike being late again. Before you text me again--all right. I'll talk to Louis first thing."

*Chime* "And Mike. You have to talk to Mike. Go to bed, Harvey. Hope your head is better."

"Going to bed. Yes, Donna, I'll talk to Mike. Got it. Bye." And with that, Harvey tossed his phone onto the kitchen counter, got some more water, and headed for the bathroom for a nice hot bath, and then bed. Hopefully, the migraine gods would be appeased. And Donna. Though they might be one and the same.

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Donna tossed her own phone away, spending a few more minutes thinking about her enigmatic boss. Donna loved Harvey, a fierce and protective love that she knew without a doubt was 100% returned by him. If she were to be honest about it, and Donna usually demanded honesty of herself, she was worried about him. Not just because he had a migraine, although that was worrisome enough; he hadn't had one in almost half a year. Harvey was upset today by Mike's behavior. Upset enough to insist on leaving for a court date that could have been changed (despite Harvey's rationale; that particular judge didn't like Harvey but adored Donna.) Upset enough to leave Mike, an unbonded submissive, in significant distress. Harvey was a very principled Dom, who took his responsibility as a Dom very seriously, as did Donna. It was one of the first things that had drawn the two close. They shared a contempt for those Doms that were abusive, neglectful and ignorant, and especially the Doms who felt superior to subs. Dominants like Cameron Dennis. Donna had thought she knew everything there was to know about Harvey--either he told her, or she had gone to other sources for information. But she now realized there was something significant she did not know about her best friend. And she was uncertain whether she really wanted to know. 

Donna threw off her uncertainty for the time being, and turned her attention to the gorgeous and now totally !nekkid! sub kneeling at her feet. "Rachel, I know you want to discuss Mike some more. And I want to hear about it, too, so Harvey and I can help. But there are some other things I'd like from your lips right now. All of your lips..." Donna leered at her, while Rachel just rolled her deep brown eyes at her Domme's silly sense of humor. However, that did not stop her from gasping as Donna pulled her up to her lap, and latched on to her right nipple. Rachel was well proportioned, and had smallish round breasts that Donna adored. While Donna sucked and nipped (eye roll) at her nipple, the fingers of her left hand slid under Rachel bottom and up through her slightly wiry and lighter brown pubic hair. Donna didn't have to look to see if Rachel was aroused or not; she could see and smell it. Her little clit was hard as her nipple and she was wet enough to receive Donna's two fingers in with no problem at all. Donna knew this territory well, and expertly found Rachel's G-spot and pressed on it. Rachel moaned and tried to wiggle around a little bit to hurry along her orgasm. Unfortunately for all, Donna noticed her game, and stopped herself, pulling her fingers out and reaching for a clean napkin. 

Donna frowned at Rachel. She wasn't too upset, but Rachel knew the rule that gave Donna the right to control her orgasms. After Donna had methodically washed her hands with an alcohol wipe, she without a word flipped Rachel over her lap, and started to smack the brown little bottom over her knee. She gave Rachel 15 spanks, each one causing the bubble butt to dance. Donna watched her bottom's bottom absorb her smack and then almost instantly rebound. Donna was fascinated by the spectacle, as always. 

"What's the rule, Rachel? I know you know." Donna spoke calmly but very firmly. Rachel swallowed hard, and quietly said, "My orgasms are not my orgasms, but yours."

"That's right. So are you to wriggle away on my hand to get yourself off?" Donna pulled up a paddle from the pocket on the chair frame. She waited to hear the quiet 'no ma'am" before smacking the thin paddle against her sub's bottom. This particular paddle was designed for sting, not thump. Rachel hated it. Donna stung her eight more times, and immediately dropped the paddle back into the pocket, and dived her fingers back into Rachel, this time one long middle finger in Rachel's ass, and her pointer finger back in playing with Rachel's G-spot. Her thumb stroked across her clit in syncopated cadence with her other two fingers. In another minute, Rachel gave into a magnificent orgasm, one that almost had her rocking off the seat, despite the many fingers that were still in her.

"God, Donna." Rachel looked up at her Domme with an almost blank expression, firmly in the lovely landscape of subspace. Donna laughed a little, and scooped Rachel up to her feet, and heading toward the master bathroom with the Jacuzzi. Mike and intra-office politics would wait for a while longer.

 

=========================================================================================================

Mike shot up from a nightmare, gasping for air and looking around the little apartment. Franklin was still in his arms, wrapped in Harvey's stolen tee-shirt. Once he had settled down enough to recall where and when he was, he sank bank down into the nest of sheets and blankets and pillows. His shoulder was still screeching, and Mike knew he had to go somewhere for help. A very small part of him almost wished for his father; the man had become proficient in popping dislocations back in, rather than taking his son into ERs repeatedly, where questions would be asked.

While Mike's body calmed down from his nightmare, his mind was spinning at the usual speed. How would he get through tomorrow at the office? No phone, no files, no security badge, and no letter to his Dom. He miserably came to the conclusion that there was no way to avoid trouble. Louis would probably want to paddle him, and maybe even Harvey would whip him as well. Mike had never heard of a partner bothering with handing out a whipping, but Harvey didn't play by the same rulebook. Mike thought about the Dom who had helped him after his bike crash. Mike felt bad about leaving him, about running away. That was a definite rule breaker. You didn't run away from a Dom, no matter what. Jeff would be pissed off at him, too. Maybe he already found out who Mike was and had called Louis or Harvey. Mike wondered if Jeff would punish him. Mike even more regretted leaving Jeff, wanting the physical contact, even if it did come at the expense of his behind. Maybe if Mike went to Harvey first, early before Louis could catch him. Then he could explain about the bike crash. Or he could go to Donna, if Harvey looked cross or grouchy. Maybe they would protect him from Louis. Tears started down Mike's cheeks again, as he trembled and shook and hugged Franklin tightly. Maybe, please, someone would take care of him.


	8. Chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike, Harvey, Donna and (surprise!) Jeff Talbot gear up for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. Life has not been nice to me lately.
> 
> Thanks to those who keep reading despite the long wait.

Mike woke early, and miserable. He hadn't slept well at all, between nightmares and his shoulder. He had rolled over onto his side in his sleep, and immediately felt someone driving a white hot stake through his shoulder. Mike had developed a somewhat high tolerance for pain over the years, but his shoulder was causing him agony by now. But if he was going to get to work early to try and catch Harvey or Donna before Louis got to him, he needed to get up and moving. Maybe they would let Mike off work early so he could go and get his shoulder fixed. Mike showered and dressed, awkwardly with just one working arm. He didn't stop for breakfast, not sure he would able to keep anything down. He spared a few minutes to tap into his stash of emergency cash to get taxi fare, and headed toward Pearson Hardman, and whatever terrors the day would bring. 

Harvey woke up feeling nauseous. Not from the alcohol yesterday afternoon, and not from the migraine, which had faded but was watching for any opportunity to come back. His sleep had been wall-to-wall nightmares. The past, which Harvey had buried so deep that even Donna didn't know, was now front and center again. He slowly sat up, gagging a little as his stomach fought for primacy of attention. Carefully he swallowed, knowing if he vomited now, he'd be vomiting all day. After a few seconds while all held in the balance, Harvey declared himself victorious, and went for the shower.

Harvey took his time in the shower. He told himself it was to allow the hot water to ease his aching muscles, but it was really procrastination. He did not want to go to work. He didn't want to see Donna and face her assessment and judgment. He did not want to see Mike, let alone talk to him. He did not want to deal with Louis being a creepy asshole. All he wanted to do was go back to bed, and pull the covers over his head, and hide. Yes, damn it, hide. The Harvey Specter that had walked eagerly into work at Pearson Hardman yesterday was gone. The Harvey Specter that no one knew, that he hadn't wanted anybody to know, was afraid.

Eventually, he faced the inevitable. He moved into his headspace that allowed him to keep going. Mechanically and methodically, he dressed as carefully as usual, and then surveyed himself in the mirror. "Atta boy, Harvey. You can do this. One foot in front of the other. Go forth and conquer!" The carefully sculpted face lasted a few more seconds, and then morphed back into the face of uneasiness, fear, and sadness. This was the face that was truly Harvey's, and had been since the tender age of four. He looked at his face, and heard a voice in his head he hadn't heard in many years. "For God's sake, Harvey, stop. You're not a baby anymore. Stop that whining, stop the tears and straighten up. If you were a good little boy, you wouldn't get it trouble, now would you? "

And then, in a cascade of voices from his past, he heard, "You are such a baby, Harvey."

"Come on now. It can't be that bad. Let me go, son, go on with her before she gets mad at me." 

"What happened to you, Harvey? Oh my god, where did you get those marks from?" 

"You are an accident prone lad then, aren't you?" 

"Come on, man up! I didn't know I had hired such a delicate little flower."

"Harvey, we all go through this. It's a tradition, and really, you could use a little discipline. I'm not going to make an exception for you." 

Harvey shook his head violently, to stop the voices. He was an important man now; a Dom, for fuck's sake. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and forced himself back into that public persona. Harvey Specter was nobody's punching bag. He was the boxer, the closer, the charmer. Slowly, Harvey straightened and checked his reflection in the mirror. Yeah. He was back. He gave his suit jacket and tie a final adjustment, and called Ray to pick him up. Back to Pearson Hardman.

 

Donna Paulsen stepped out into the early morning, hailing a taxi. Despite how effortless she made it seem, keeping on top of all that went on in and out of Pearson Hardman did require some work on her part. And if leaving her warm bed, and her hot sub much earlier than she would like, well, that was the price she paid. Settling into the back of the cab, Donna pulled up her mental calendar for the day, and recalled that Harvey had no appointments or court appearances today. She wondered if he would try and stay home with his migraine. Donna could not help but feel conflicted. She had always encouraged Harvey to stay home when he had a migraine, and normally would show up at his place with soup or another light meal for him, offering a massage to help his neck and shoulder muscles relax. But something needed to be done today about Mike. 

And frankly, Donna was worried about her boss. Nothing she knew about Harvey, and it went without saying that she knew him better than anyone else, explained why Harvey was so upset yesterday. Donna was aware of a very uncomfortable feeling deep within, that told her this was going to be a difficult, painful and unsettling day. Gooood morning, Pearson Hardman.

Jeff Talbot stepped out early from his brownstone, heading for the little diner on the corner where he ate breakfast almost daily. The previous evening, after discovering Mike Ross's messenger bag, Jeff took it and himself to the nearest hospital, certain that Mike and his guardian would be there. After all, the sub was hurt. Surely his Dom would take him for treatment, right? After two more ERs, and no sign of Michael Ross, Jeff decided he would take it to Pearson Hardman. Not only to give Mike his property, but to find out if this youngster was being cared for properly. He considered that his duty as a Dom, to make sure this very extraordinary boy was okay.

Jeff went home, at dinner, watched a movie, and thought about Michael Ross. He found his gaze wandering to the mantelpiece, and the silver framed pictures of his Christopher. HIs sub, and the love of his life. His thoughts ranged back to the first day he had seen him. Jeff was at the movies, waiting to see the newest Avengers flick. He would ever admit it, but he had developed quite a thing for Clint Barton. He was daydreaming about archers and arrows and the muscles needed to...

"For God's sake, boy, I said no! I brought you here to this ridiculous movie and paid a completely ridiculous price-that should be enough!" A ringing slap sounded just as Jeff pulled his eyes around to the couple two steps behind. A large older man dressed in a business suit, immaculately tailored, had just smacked the back of the head of the younger man with him. The youngster, a slender sandy haired boy wearing jeans and a navy blue long sleeved button-down, winced and immediately dropped his head and and stared at his sneakered feet. The crowd stared at them. Most Doms did not discipline subs so publicly or loudly.

"Sorry, sir. I can get it myself; I brought my money." The older man grabbed him and bent him under his own arm, and then delivered ten hard swats to the seat of his jeans. "I don't care, Christopher. I said no! Now, if you don't want my belt to come off, SHUT UP!" There were now sounds of concern and unhappiness from the crowd, instead of the rather leering interest as before. A few Doms were starting to move, Jeff included, when a theater employee glided up.

"Sir, I'd be happy to show you to a private room." The usher, a young sub wearing a name tag which proclaimed him Peter, said this quietly and respectfully, his eyes lowered. The older man glared at the younger, and said, "No. I've had it with your constant disobedience and defiance. We're done, Christopher. You go right ahead and do what you want, as always. See the stupid movie, eat yourself sick and fat, and I'll go home and pack up your stuff. I'll keep all the items I paid for, of course. I'm done with you."

The youngster, who had kept his head and eyes down, snapped his head back up, his eyes filling with tears, and his face showing his shock. "Dad?"

The older man shook his head in disgust. "Don't you ever call me that again. I can't begin to tell you how fed up and disappointed I am in you. Your mother, God rest her soul, would be appalled at the way you turned out. Goodbye, Christopher." He stormed away, and all attention turned to Christopher. He stood rooted to the spot, tears sliding down his flushed face. Peter watched him for a few seconds, and then went closer to him, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Is there someone I can call for you?" Peter said this quietly, trying to move him to the side. Christopher shook his head, and suddenly looked up, his face turning decidedly pale. Jeff knew what was about to happen, and stepped in, grabbing the boy's arm and steering him into the restroom and into a stall, just making it before Christopher began to throw up violently. Jeff stayed with him, rubbing his back in long, soothing strokes until the poor kid was finished. From there, it went all in a blur. Jeff offered him a ride, and when Chris tearfully admitted he had nowhere to go, took him to his own home. A few days of shelter, sleep and gentle care from Jeff had led to years of happiness. That happiness was shattered the night that Chris was shot and killed by a strung out junkie desperate for quick cash.

Jeff pulled himself out of the memory, and sighed deeply. It was because of Christopher that he took the care of subs so seriously, and that meant that Jeff would not just forget the young man on the street. He went to bed early, wanting to be at Pearson Hardman first thing in the morning to make sure Michael Ross had someone looking out for him. If he didn't, Jeff was prepared to do whatever necessary to ensure Mike's wellbeing. Just like he had done with his beloved Christopher.


End file.
